Love in New York
by EnigmaHarper
Summary: Alma Vostok is a young mucisian trying to make it big in the big city. Her life changes when she grow a pair and introduces herself to a blogger in a cafe.


Alma stared across the coffee shop at the young tousle-haired man sitting alone with his laptop. She had seen him there before many times, and every time she chickened out of actually talking to him.

But not today.

She zagged around the tabled "looking" for a seat and stopped slightly in front of him.

"Excuse me," she coughed, "is this seat taken?"

He looked up and smiled, "Go ahead, but just so you know, I might not be a great conversationalist. I gotta get this done before noon."

She glanced over to the large Felix clock on the wall – 11:30am.

"What are you writing? Maybe I can help."

He looked at her sideways and shrugged, "Well, the topic this week is 'Local Artist Showcase.' I've reviewed a few but I'm stuck for promotion. No one has any upcoming shows."

"You don't say," she beamed, "I happen a little place where a young singer/songwriter will be playing tonight at 8pm. Do you knowπ?

"Right off Battery?"

That is the place. The artist is Alma Vostok. I've seen her a couple times on YouTube, but never live. She's in the same vein as Jonathon Coulton and Paul and Storm."

"Who?"

"Just call it Nerd Core. She also covers some pop hits. I really hope she does her 'Paparazzi.' It's boss."

"Can I quote you on that?"

"As long as it's anonymous, please. I don't wanna sound like a stalker."

He typed away for a few minutes and hit send. "Thank you so very much."

"You are welcome very much. So… where will I be able to read said blog?"

"I'm one of many on . Search for Reed Garrett. That's R-E-E-D Garrett, two Rs and two Ts."

"Thanks. I'll check it out. You planning on being there?"

"I'm gonna have to as I can't shout out a show and not review it. Will you be there?"

"I'll try to make it," she smirked, "yeah, I'll be there."

"It's a date then."

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back, "Is that really the time? I've gotta go. So much to do before the show. Sorry, but I'll see you later."

She bolted out the door leaving him slack-jawed, "Wait!" he went after her but she had already disappeared into the crowd, "I don't even know your name."

Alma sprinted up all four flights of stairs to her apartment. As soon as she secured herself inside, she flopped on her couch giggling.

"I can't believe I just did that," she talked to herself, but as she had no roommate this was a normal occurrence. "I walked up to him and talked to him. I found out his name and occupation, or at least his hobby. AND I invited him to my show tonight. He called it a date."

She squealed into a cushion.

"I gotta figure out what I'm gonna wear."

She ran into her closet, tossing her ukulele on her bed. She usually performed in jeans and a t-shirt with a funny logo, but tonight was a date. She pulled out a long brown skirt and laid it on the bed. Then she went diving through her mess of green tops.

"It's still a little chilly, so I need sleeves, though I think I can handle short ones. I'll wear my jacket just in case. And this ladder scarf as an accessory. He was rocking a scarf. Focus, Alma. Top… I need a top… let's go with this one."

She pulled out a sea-foam green scoop neck peasant top. The bust was tailored to show off her assets without looking slutty. And the scarf would help, just in case.

She glanced at her alarm clock – 3:15pm. She had three and a half hours before her sound check. It would take half of that just getting there, so she had to start getting ready now.

"Shower first," she told herself, "just to wash the subway funk from my hair."

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her curly hair stuck out all over. She twisted the curls to calm them down. Some days she wished she didn't have ethnic hair. She was far from black, yet far from white, as her mother was Moroccan and her father was Welsh. The Vostok family name came from her ancestors from Russia. All things together gave her lovely honey brown skin and green eyes. Even though she had moved here three years ago, she still had a bit on an accent, though she would hide it if she wanted.

"Why did I hide it from him?" she asked her mirror self, "Why the hell did I do that?"

She arrived at the bar precisely at 6:30pm and was greatly warmly by the owner.

"I have a favor to ask, Keith."

"Anything. You are a star you know. I'll just add it to your rider."

"My rider, right…" she grinned as she didn't have a rider, "I have someone coming tonight who needs a press pass."

"You have a press friend?"

"Well, he's a blogger that I just met and I used him for free publicity. So he might as well get in free, right?"

"I guess. What's his name? I'll make sure he gets in."

"Reed. That's R-E-…

"Garrett?"

"Yeah…"

"I know Reed. He … well, he really goes the distance for a story."

"That's… a wee bit ominous. Thanks, Keith."

"I mean nothing by it. I'll make sure he gets in. Shall I bring up your usual?"

"That would be great. Thanks, Keith."

She paced in the back hall, which had been curtained off and marked "Green Room." She had never been the kind to get nervous before a show, but when Keith came back and announced that it was a packed house, she got a little jittery.

When she walked onstage, she met a hundred cheering people.

"Wow!" she exclaimed into the mic, "behold the power of interwebs."

Laughter echoed throughout the room. She scanned the crowd and found Reed on the left side, still rocking the scarf.

"Well, I'm Alma Vostok, and most of you have never heard of me. I would like to thank Reed for the free advertising and as promised I'll start with my cover."

She played a few slow chords on her uke and belted out a beautiful operatic version of "Paparazzi." Then she went into a few original songs. The first was An Ode to a Companion Cube. Next was a faux-rap about Scrabble. A few more covers of Jonathon Coulton and other artists. She joked, they laughed. Overall it went really well.

"You guys are awesome! I'm gonna take a quick break. Talk amongst yourselves."

"Alma, my dear you are a hit!" Keith hugged her as soon as she came through the curtain.

"I must say, Alma, you really didn't do yourself justice," Reed sat on the couch looking up at her. "And British to boot."

"I'll leave you two alone. Gotta tend the bar."

"Kay, Keith. And I'm Welsh actually. Sorry I lied… wait, I didn't lie. I have never seen myself live, and I have watched my clips on YouTube. … I'm glad you came."

"You are something else," he stood up and walked towards her. "I can't explain, but I really would like to kiss you right now."

"Go ahead."

They shared probably the most passionate kiss of her life, well most of a kiss as Keith had entered to tell her it was time.

"Thanks, Keith," she glared at him.

"Break a leg," Reed slid past them and went back to his seat.

"What was that?"

"That… was wonderful."

The second half of the show went even better than the first, and she closed with a dramatic cover of "Still Alive." The audience stood in ovation.

"Thank you very much everyone. Remember to tip the bartender. Keith, you're gonna give me half of that, right?"

"Bull shit!"

"Love ya too, Keith. Well, goodnight everyone. Drive safe."

Alma waited in the back until the crowd diminished before clearing her stuff from the stage. Keith stayed to help as well as Reed.

"I'm glad you didn't make me a liar."

"Is that a nice way of saying 'thank you for not sucking'?"

"I suppose so," he blushed.

"Well, you are welcome. I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad you helped me out today."

"I'm glad I actually grew the balls to talk to you," she grasped her mouth to keep from saying anything else. She couldn't tell him that she had been basically stalking him at the café.

"It's okay. I'm glad you did too."

It didn't take long to tear everything down and pack everything up. Alma left with what she came with, just her purse and her uke.

"Let me take that for you."

"How chivalric, but completely unnecessary."

"Can I at least walk you home?"

"That would be a long walk, but you may share a cab ride with me."

The color briefly drained from his face.

"Or not?"

"No, cab ride it is."

She hailed one the dozens of cabs running on that particular street at that particular time, and hopped in. Reed closed the door for her and hopped in on the other side. They chatted throughout the whole ride and when the cab dropped them off three blocks past her destination, they chatted for those three blocks as well.

"Well, we're here," she made a grand sweep to the building, "would you like to come inside?"

"Sure. I mean if you want me to."

"Well… I did ask."

They made it up three of the four flights before passionately attacking each other in the stairwell.

"We're almost there," she gasped in his ear.

"Good."

They finally made it inside and she bolted the door behind them. For a moment they were all kisses and flailing limbs. They had pulled off each other's shirts, and she had just started tugging at his scarf when he pulled away.

"What is it?" she nervously grabbed for her shirt to cover herself.

"Nothing."

"Obviously not nothing."

They stared at each other, both half naked, when she noticed a tear run down his cheek. She went over to comfort him.

"I'm so sorry," he wiped the tear away, "I cannot believe this."

"What?"

"This is so stupid, it's been three years, why do I let it bother me?" he yelled out to no one.

"Please tell me what's going on."

"How long have you lived here?"

"I moved here about two years ago, August."

"Consider yourself lucky. Three years ago, this city was brought to a standstill by a serial killer who used his cab to kill. Late spring, he started. He would pick up a fare and kill them in the back of his cab. He then would carve into the back of their necks and dump them near a water source. He even dumped one in a fountain. He called himself Chiron."

"The Ferryman?" he looked at her, "I study Greek mythology."

"Yeah, the Ferryman. Anyways, I was just starting my blog and I thought I could the case because the cops didn't seem like they were doing anything. I had an informant and everything, plus I had an insider in the cops."

"Sounds big time. What happened?"

"Well…" he pulled off his scarf to reveal a thin red line carved from ear to ear, "turned out my informant was the killer. My blog was his conduit and I would lead the masses to their doom. He took me to "tell his story" and when I was done…" he motioned across his neck.

"Oh my," she spoke through her fingers. "How?"

"My contact in the PD. We were supposed to meet and when I didn't show, he followed the clues I left in the blog."

"Wow," she was truly flabbergasted.

"I'm sorry I ruined this. I'll let myself out," he grabbed his shirt off the floor and headed for the door.

She raced around and blocked his way, "Don't go. We don't have to do anything, but at least stay the night. You don't have to be alone."

Alma woke to the sound of the shower running. She found herself half hanging off the sofa with the television on an old movie network and a third of a cold pizza on the coffee table. She straightened herself up and turned off the TV just as the shower stopped running.

"Reed?"

"Yeah?" he voice reverberated from the shower.

"Just making sure I wasn't going crazy."

He walked out of the shower clad in a towel … and nothing else. "Still here. Just needed a shower. Hope you don't mind. I would've asked but you were in a pizza coma."

"That does seem to happen," she watched him watch back into the bathroom and bit her lip. "Pull it together, Alma. So you have a naked man in your apartment. So what?"

"You say something?"

"Um… got any plans today?"

"I have a meeting over lunch and another one at 3pm, but other than that I'm open."

She looked at the clock – 8:45am, "you want breakfast? I know this great little place a few blocks from here."

"Sunshine Deli?"

"Yeah, how did you…"

"I had to review them a couple months ago. The Eggs Benedict is delicious."

"I'm a fan of the pancakes with real maple syrup. I think it's the only place in the city with the real stuff."

She slid past him and pushed him out of the bathroom, "Gotta get ready."

"No problem."

He watched as not one but two people exited her building. It was the same man that entered last night. He fumed a little as he saw them walking hand in hand. He was still wearing the same clothes from last night. How could she take in a random person? How could she ruin their beautiful togetherness? She was supposed to be his last night, but the arrival of the new man hindered that. Tonight would be the night, then.

He followed them to the deli and flinched as they kiss goodbye. How could she do that to him? He promised him that they would be together forever. She proclaimed it to the world last night at her concert. Now she has some new person? Something wasn't right. Something had to be done. And it had to be done tonight.

Alma paced around on her cell, "And your meetings went okay?"

"Yeah. Just getting my new assignments and checking in with Mac."

"Who?"

"It's a long story."

"Well, I do like long stories."

"I'm just around the corn…" there was a clamor over the phone, "Jesus!"

"What was that?"

"Someone threw a flower pot off a fire escape. Who does that? Anyway, I'm almost there; let's continue this when I get there."

"See you soon then," she clicked the phone shut. "Just around the corner. I'll meet you there."

She grabbed her keys and flew out the door. It was a lot darker outside than she thought it was gonna be. But she trudged along around the corner. Something in the alley caught her attention. Someone was moaning. Against her better judgment she went to investigate. She recognized the shoes first.

"Reed?"

She huddled down to see him lying on some garbage bags. He was severely dazed and half out of it.

"Talk to me."

"Be… hind…" he managed to mumble before the electricity overcame her. She quickly blacked out.

Reed woke in a pile of garbage with a monster headache. He reached for his phone.

"Mac?"

"Yeah, what is it?"

"I think I need your help."

"What's wrong?"

"Well… I'm not exactly sure."

"I'll be right there."

Within moments there was a black and white; flashing lights.

"What happened?"

"I was on my way to see Alma and some nut job jumped me. Though I can swear I saw her here."

"She lives around here?"

"Right around the block."

"Have you tried calling her?"

"Of course. It goes straight to voice mail."

While they were talking, another CSI was checking him over.

"You seem okay, but I did find taser bites on your back."

"Great."

A voice crackled over the walkie, "she's not in her apartment, Mac, but I did find something interesting."

"Be right there."

"Mac?"

"Stay here."

"But…"

"Reed! We'll handle this. Stay put. Stella, watch him."

Reed watched him run into the building and moments later walk back out with a letter in a plastic bag."

"Does this mean anything to you?"

He read with wide eyes, "it's one of her songs, Ode to a Companion Cube."

"What?"

"She's a singer/songwriter."

"And this is a song?"

"Was someone stalking her? She did have a show last night. But we didn't see anyone on the way back. At least I don't remember any strange lurky people."

"Okay, we gotta take this in. You are going to get checked out. No buts! We will find her."

Alma woke in the dark, her head pounding. Her entire body ached like she was run through a spin cycle. A very small amount of light was seeping in from a crack near the floor. The way it was position, it had to be a door. She crawled toward the light, every motion reinstalling the pain throughout her body. She was about a foot away when she reached the end of her bonds. She reached back to her ankle and felt the plastic cuff dig into her skin. She looked into the light to see if she could make out anything, but all she saw was white walls.

She let her eyes adjust to the darkness but the room became more depressing with every detail she could make out. She was bound to a pipe that was barely sticking out of the wall. There was nothing else in the room. There was no light, save the tiny amount from under the door. It was quite possibly hell personified.

"My sweet companion," she could hear a man singing outside the door, "the weight you bear."

"Hello? Can someone help me?" she pleaded to the voice.

"A cube you might say, just don't call him square."

"Please help me!"

She heard a key enter the lock. She pulled herself back to a sitting position. The flood of light from the open door blinds her and she reels in pain. The man stood in the doorway, nothing but a silhouette.

"My dear Alma. At last you've come to me. I've been waiting for this for quite some time."

"Where am I?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you are here with me and we are together. I saved you from a monster tonight. He couldn't possibly love you like I do."

"What did you do to him?" she lunged at him, forgetting her binds and fell flat on her face. The jagged cement left a cut on her eyebrow. Blood flowed into her eyes and mixed with her tears.

"You won't have to worry about him anymore. He's nothing and will always be nothing."

He cradled her hand in his hands, but she couldn't make out any features.

"I love you, Alma, and that's all that matters," he leaned in and kissed her. She tried to pull away but his grip on her face, and her recent tumble, hindered her attempt. When he tried to stick his tongue down her throat, she bit it.

"Bitch!" he slapped her across the face, "just rot here then. You'll come crawling to me. Just you wait."

He slammed the door behind him and she heard his steps thunder off. She wiped the blood from her eyes and tried to focus again. She saw something when he opened the door. Something in the corner. Something vaguely phone shaped.

Reed sat in the station turning the newly printed hospital bracelet on his wrist. A million thoughts ran through his head, none of them good.

"Clean bill of health?"

He held up his wrist, "Just a little dehydrated. Apparently that's a common side effect to 250 volts."

Mac nodded.

"Please tell me it's not him."

"Couldn't be. He's still in jail. We checked."

"And it wasn't a murder groupie?"

"No visitors or even any mail since incarceration."

"So we have nothing?" he put his head in his hands.

"We have a handwritten note currently being analyzed and we were lucky her show was taped. We are running through the audience right now. It's not the best quality, but it is something."

"Can I help?"

"You know that answer to that."

"I can't just sit here, Mac. I…"

"Have you talked to the sketch artist?"

"Yes, though it was worthless. I didn't see him."

"Have you tried your blog? You have quite the fan base. They could keep an eye out for her."

"Not yet. I wouldn't know what to say."

"I'm sure you'll think of something. I can set you up in the break room. Follow me."

Alma reached for the phone. It wasn't hers, but still she could call out if it had a charge. It barely stuck to her fingertips, but she pulled it over. She turned it on and prayed it stayed on. The battery had one bar, good enough for a phone call.

"'You don't have to worry about him anymore.' He better not have hurt you." She punched in Reed's number, thankful for her super awesome memory.

"Please pick up the phone."

His phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up, hoping it was her. He didn't recognize the number, but it was local.

"Hello?"

"Reed? Oh, thank God!"

"Alma? Where are you?" he looked around, searching for Mac.

"I don't know. It's dark. He has me chained to the wall."

"Oh, God. Listen Alma, be strong. I've got the best people trying to find you."

"The same ones that found you?"

"The same," he waved frantically at Mac, "its Alma."

Alma was so happy she got through she forgot to keep an ear out for her captor. But the sudden burst of light announced his arrival.

"And what do you think you are doing?"

He kicked the phone from her hand. She screamed and huddled down for the worst.

"You ungrateful little bitch!" he kicked her again; "look what you are making me do to you!"

He wouldn't let up. Every punch and kick was more forceful than the last, and it was all broadcast over the phone.

"Alma!" Reed almost dropped the phone when he heard the first blow.

"Reed, give it here," Mac grabbed the phone and made sure it was still connected. "Danny, run a trace. You won't want to listen, but make sure it stays connected."

"Right, boss."

"Reed, look at me."

Reed had slunk to the floor, "He was killing her."

"Now you listen to me. We are going to find her and catch this son of a bitch. You have to be strong for her. Can you do that?"

Reed stared off into space, the sound of her screams in his ears.

"Tell me we got a trace."

"We narrowed it down to 10 blocks near West Bank. You gotta hear this."

Danny rewound the last few seconds of audio from the call.

"I hope you enjoyed the show, boy, cause you ain't ever gonna see her again."

The last second was quiet save for a very strained 'help' in the background.

"She's still alive."

"For now."

"Work the audio up. I need to know if we can get any clues to her location from it."

"Already processing."

"And the location?"

"On the screen."

"Mac?"

Reed stood in the doorway, staring at the map.

"What is it?"

"Something she said. She said it was dark and smelled sickly sweet…" he walked toward the map. "Is she there?"

"That's where we narrowed it down."

"That's were…" he drifted off, unconsciously holding his neck.

"Close, but it's not. Here is where…" he pointed out the abandoned brewery were Reed was held, just outside the radius.

"Well, this is a candy factory," Danny highlighted a building in the area, "and so is this."

"We go to both. Reed, stay here."

Reed nodded and watched them leave, but like hell was he going to wait anywhere.

Alma woke in a daze. She hurt all over and she couldn't move her right arm. Somehow her bind broken during the beating, or her snapped it off because he knew she wouldn't leave. She knew he thought she was dead, and he just left her there to rot in a tiny little room. She wandered the room, not being able to move very well. She felt the walls; they were the same jagged cement that lined the floor. The door was the only difference anywhere, save the pip jutting from the wall. To her surprise, the handle turned and opened.

She peaked into the hall, praying he wasn't hiding behind the door. He wasn't.

The hallway was the brightest white she had ever seen; though that could've been the fact she had been in the dark for several hours. The fluorescent lights flickered and hummed. She walked carefully down the corridor, angry that she was leaving footprints he could follow. The rest of the hallway had no doors, just a stairway at the far end. She climbed that iron gate, wincing with each step. She tried not to care about the fact that she was in her underwear and was fully clothed before the beating. She also tried not to think about the obvious feeling between her legs. He had raped her, probably after he thought she was dead.

At the top of the stairs she quickly jumped into the first hiding place she could find. Someone was coming.

Reed parked around the front of Doohan's Brewery, a place he had sworn he'd never return to, and shot a quick text to Mac, just in case.

Just being there sent chills up his spine, but he knew he was right. He remembered the sickly sweet smell of the nearby factories, and knew he was in the right place. He ducked behind a barrel just in time to see a man stalk past. He was on a mission and had blood on his hands. It took all he had to not jump the bastard and pummel him down. But his main concern was Alma. That bastard would just have to wait, for now. He stealthily snapped a pic of the man with his phone. He would need that later.

After making sure the coast was clear, he set out in the direction the man came from. He was nearing the back area, next to an area he knew all too well, when he heard another noise. This one left a bloody footprint to follow.

Alma crouched ready to attack, even though she wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. The figure must've followed her trail. She saw a mop of hair and attacked.

Reed caught her and held her close.

"I'm so glad I found you."

"Reed?" she was so started she started to cry.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, "I got you."

He reached into his pocket and called Mac.

"Reed!" he could tell he was angry.

"I've got her, Mac. I found her."

"We are on our way. Stay put. I mean it."

"We will," he closed his phone, "They're on their way. I saw this man leave," he showed her the picture, "is that him?"

"Honestly, I never got a look. I was blinded every time he came in."

"We need to find a safe place to hide. He might come back. I don't think he would just leave you out in the open. This way."

They ran a little ways and ducked behind some pallets.

"Reed, he can follow me."

She pointed out the bloody footprints she was still leaving behind.

"Hang on to me."

He cradled her in his arms and carried her to another pile of debris.

"We'll wait here. I can see and yet there is plenty of cover."

She was about to speak when they heard a truck drive in. IT wasn't a cruiser, so they tried being as quiet as possible. A man jumped out and bent over the bloody footprints.

"Shit! I guess she still had some life in her. Alma!" he called out.

Reed crouched over her, both protecting and stifling her. She mouthed, 'that's him' and Reed burned.

"Come out, my dear. I won't hurt you… much."

He kicked over the first pile of pallets they hid behind, "Did your boy toy come to save you? How sweet. I'll have to kill him too."

He kicked over another pile getting a little closer.

"He's gonna find us. Where is your cop friend?"

"They should be here soon," he picked her up and carried her to another spot.

He kicked over the pile they were just behind.

"Are you gonna tell him who I am? It would be better if it came from you."

Alma looked at Reed, "I have no idea who that is."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

He crossed the yard and kicked another pile. They quickly found different refuge while his back was turned.

"I've known her forever. Back when we were in Wales. (adopting an accent) We were neighbors and best friends. Though I have to admit you spent a little too much time with that sister of yours. And she hated me. I never understood why…"

Alma grasped her mouth.

"What is he talking about?"

"Mickey?"

"I killed her, you know. She was getting between us. Of course, she made it all too easy. Jogging in her condition without her medication. Tsk. Tsk. Asthma kills. I jumped on her and put all my weight on her chest. Pushed the breath right out. And when you found her and started CPR, it just helped me so much."

Tears ran down Alma's face, "I found her in the yard…" She looked up and Reed was gone.

"You bastard!" he ran at him with full force and knocked him over. Mickey was barely fazed.

"Really? Alma, is this the best you could find?" he rebounded with a mighty swing, knocking Reed over.

It was clear the Reed was outmatched, but all he really needed to do was stall enough for the cops to get there. He could hear the sirens in the distance.

Mickey retreated to his truck, "I am sick of this," he pulled out a gun and aimed right at Reed.

"No!" Alma screamed and jumped out of hiding. "Please, just stop, Mickey."

"Why? He's weak. Like a dog. He needs to be put down."

"Alma, listen…" he looked at her with such determination on his face. He gingerly stood up and faced off with Mickey, making sure that he was blocking Alma.

Alma just stared at him quizzically, but then she heard it. Sirens and they were close.

The next few moments played out in slow motion. Reed leapt towards him as he fired a single round. The bullet sunk deep into his abdomen. As he fell to the ground, police cars swarmed around closing off all routes. Time resumed with all the cops shouting at Mickey to drop the gun.

"Reed!"

He didn't move from the crumpled heap he fell in. Mickey dropped the gun and was instantly covered by police.

Alma crept over to Reed's side. "Reed?"

He coughed and gurgled. Alma held pressure on his stomach.

A man approached talking into a walkie, "We got a GSW. Get a gurney."

"He jumped in front of it."

Paramedics ran in and carted them both off to the hospital.

Alma sat in her hospital bed. Her feet were thoroughly bandaged, as well as all the other cuts she had obtained, and her arm was in a cast. She was advised that she would not be walking for awhile. She stared large out the large glass window in front of her. Several people, all in vests, huddled outside talking. She tried to read their lips, but she never had mastered that skill. A woman split from the huddle and walked through the door.

"Hello, Alma, how are you feeling?"

"How is Reed?"

"We don't know yet. He's in surgery now."

Alma felt the tears welling up inside.

"I'm with CSI and I need to ask you a few questions."

"Okay."

"What happened the night you were taken?"

"I was going to meet Reed outside my apartment. I figured that since we were already going to go out, I'd save him some steps. I turned the corner and heard something in the alley. I recognized Reed's shoes, so I went to help him. Then I woke up in the room."

"You can't remember anything between finding him and waking up?"

"No. I don't know what he did to me, but I don't remember anything."

"Where did you get the phone?"

"It was in the room. I don't know why he would've left it there."

"Did he touch you?"

"You mean apart from the multitude of beatings?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember him doing so, but I know he did."

"Did the doctors take a kit?"

Alma nodded and started to cry, "Why would someone do this?"

"I wish I could tell you," she flipped a page, "Do you know your assailant?"

"I didn't at first. I never got a good look at him. But when we were hiding, I figured it out."

"Who is he to you?"

"His name is Mickey Whinging. He was my best friend all through school back in Wales. Until he moved. I lost contact with him after my sister…"

"Your sister?"

"He killed her; too," she was sobbing now, "He said so. He admitted to everything while we waited for you."

"Stella?" an older man peeked in and called the woman away. They talked for a moment outside then she came back in.

"Reed's out of surgery and stable."

"When can I see him?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll let a doctor know to tell you. Will you be okay for a few more questions?"

"I think so."

"Okay, so he killed your sister?"

Alma took a deep breath and dived into the story. She told how Vera had a condition and how Mickey confessed to everything. She told her everything that she knew, in all the details she could remember. When she was done, she was exhausted. Stella let her rest. She deserved it after all she had been through.

The nurse wheeled Alma into his room. She would've wheeled herself, but the cast hindered that action. She could do some wicked doughnuts, though. He sat in his bed furiously typing on his computer. She asked the nurse to leave so they could talk.

"Excuse me," she coughed, "is this seat taken?"

He looked up and smiled, "Go ahead, but just so you know, I might not be a great conversationalist. I gotta get this done before noon."

She glanced over to the clock on the wall – 11:30am.

"What are you writing? Maybe I can help."

He smiled, "Well, I am recalling the harrowing tale of a beautiful young woman who gets herself kidnapped only to be saved by a knight on a shining Vespa and the New York Police Department."

"You don't say," she beamed, "Sounds interesting. I'll have to read it."

"But seriously, I'm almost done. Just got to send it out and," he punched a few keys, "done. Now that that's over, what would you like to do today?"

"Well, I hear there's a little place around the corner that serves mediocre food…"

"The Cafeteria?"

"So you've heard of it," they both laughed, "Good. They have a mostly inedible 'steak' that I'm dying to try."

"Sounds like a date," he climbed out of bed and pushed her out the door, "we are quite the pair."

"We are that," she grabbed his hand, pulling him down, and kissed him.

Reed just smiled and pushed her into the cafeteria.


End file.
